


Lord-Traitor

by Chernilka_Inky



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 12:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16063538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chernilka_Inky/pseuds/Chernilka_Inky
Summary: Bendy attacked Sammy in Chapter Two. What does the Prophet feel now? And what is stronger: hope to escape or devotion to Lord?





	Lord-Traitor

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic here!  
> Well... This is also an answer in textual ask, but I decided to post it here.  
> I hope you'll like it.  
> 

That was wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen! Anyway, it happened, no matter how much Sammy wanted to avoid something like that. Bendy finally showed up, noticed his prophet, but not in the way Lawrence would have wanted to.

"No, my Lord! Stay back! I'm your prophet!"

It seems the demon wasn't interested in worship or sacrifices. Perhaps he didn't care to attack anyone, or maybe Sammy's just angered his Deity somehow.

And now the prophet was hiding in his sanctuary, which also served as a shelter, even if not very reliable.

After all he did for his Lord, Sammy was hurt by Bendy. No! Lawrence didn't blame Bendy! How could his Lord do anything wrong? The Lord is the most fair! 

"I did something wrong," the prophet whispered. "I was punished for something." 

However, when the initial terror began receding slowly, Sammy started to think about what happened.

"It's just a dream," he repeated desperately, like a mantra, and beat himself mercilessly in the face with his palms, trying to wake up. "It's a horrible, horrible dream. Wake up, Sammy! Wake up!" 

But it was not a dream. His face ached from the blows, but Sammy continued to shower himself with slaps. And when the prophet realized that everything that happened was as real as his existence, he wept, hiding his head in his lap.

"My Lord!"  he shouted like a madman. "My God! What? What have I done wrong? I can fix it. Just set me free!" 

But deep in his soul, the prophet knew that was the end. The end of everything. Hope, faith. Salvation.

"Lord... You betrayed me," Sammy whispered suddenly, marveling at himself and at the same time fearing those words. The following words clearly sounded in the deathly silence. He screamed:

"You're a traitor, like Joey Drew. Like your cursed Creator!" 

In the next moment he realized what he had said. How dare he. Bendy hears everything! The prophet was sure that the Ink Demon heard those words. And these words will be followed by punishment.

"No, no! Excuse me, My Lord!" he pleaded, and then added through his tears:

"Lord proved to be a traitor. What an idiot I am! How could I trust him?! Fool!" 

Sammy was silent. Now he should keep silence, not to say something more terrible. 

"No... I don't believe you anymore, Bendy," he said suddenly and raised his head. "You're a liar."

He started laughing. It was frightening to see with the tears streaming down his face. That's funny! Worship a cartoon demon! 

"I'll fix it, my Lord!" Lawrence screamed, falling to the feet of a Bendy cutout, like he forgot that a couple of moments ago, accused Bendy. "Give me my freedom!" 

He hated himself for saying that. Hated for humiliating a creature that didn't deserve it. But he hated himself for the inexcusable rudeness towards the Lord.

"You are my God!" 

Did Bendy hear him? Oh, Sammy hoped that he'd never found out what Lawrence said next.

"I renounce." 

How he wanted to kill himself for saying that. For thirty years he never allowed himself to speak disrespectfully about his Lord. What he was saying now... It was like someone else was saying it. A pure soul, thirty years ago, mired in the inky madness. He hated Bendy, which promised to grant him freedom and lied. He wanted to run away, to hide, so the Demon couldn't find him; and to seek the Lord, fall before him to swear allegiance, promise to do anything, even to kiss his feet, if only to apologize for those awful words.

"I renounce" 

Sammy didn't know what to do, didn't know what he wanted. He just wanted to go home! He just wanted to be near his Lord.

"I'll find a way to free everyone."

"Bendy, I refuse to renounce!" 

It was more like two different people talking. A soft but firm and confident voice was interrupted by a trembling and frantic one.

The composer stood up resolutely, took off his mask, broke it into two parts and sharply threw it aside. It was the beginning of a new time, when the Demon wasn't important. Sammy must save the Lost Ones by himself. He realized. Bendy wasn't God and Savior. He was a traitor and a liar.

But how could a Prophet just give up?

"I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry, my Lord... But this is your fault."

He was walking down the hall, leaving an ink trail. He didn't care where to go, just away from this damn sanctuary where in honor of the Ink Devil candles stood, praises and pentagrams were drawn all over the walls. He was disgusted with himself for having created all this. But also proud.

"I've always done everything for you. I would do anything for you. I'll give my life for you. I'm your prophet, your sheep."

And he shouted angrily at himself for it.

The Prophet aspired to the Lord, serving him became the meaning of his life, and the Composer wanted to start a new life, to find, at last, a way to save himself, the Lost Ones and all those who longed for freedom. The Prophet hated himself, and the Composer hated Bendy. The Prophet wanted to be near his Master, and the Composer wanted to get out. 

Two personalities joined together in one ink body. Each was eager to its goal. And maybe it would have lasted forever, or Sammy wouldn't have survived and killed himself if Bendy didn't interfere

"I am your Lord, you are my Prophet," he whispered softly to the Prophet who bent before him, not giving a word to the composer. "Repeat these words, this small oath, and you will not be punished." 

Lord had mercy. He was ready to forgive his traitorous prophet. Lawrence looked up to him. 

"No. I'm not going to grovel before you," he snapped, and cringed in expectation of the fate. It's better to die at the hands of Bendy than continue to praise him. 

But the last word was with the Prophet. 

"You are My Lord, I am your prophet," dutifully repeated Sammy. His lips touched the hand of his idol. 

Pure soul again immersed in ink, in endless love and devotion to the Lord. The composer lost. 

"Come with me," ordered Bendy, turning around. "There's work for you." 

Lawrence was happy. Isn't serving the Demon was the main thing in his life? It was. Only a broken mask lying on the floor in one of the rooms was a reminder of an attempt to change something.


End file.
